


Lost and Found

by windsweptfic



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fix-It, Gen, Post Season 13, Yorklina if you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 13:31:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6756064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windsweptfic/pseuds/windsweptfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt for RvB fluff week over on tumblr: <i>Blood Gulch gang with Carolina and Epsilon investigating one of Hargrove's sites. Inside North, York etc are in cryostasis- alive and revivable.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://wantonlywindswept.tumblr.com/post/143576861387/rvb-fluff-week-designation-ci-5922), renamed because my titles take longer to think up than the actual fic does. (This does not mean they are good titles.)
> 
> Takes place post-season 13.

Inventory was boring.

Inventory was boring, and horrible, and absolutely fucking awful, but it was also necessary. So Epsilon did it. Mindlessly. Unhappily. _Grumpily._ He kept a bored eye on where everyone was within the ship as he sifted through the data, tracking Carolina up near the command center, and Wash poking through the computer systems with Simmons. 

He and Tucker were wandering through one of the storage bays, Epsilon reading the tracking numbers on the contents and running them against the _Staff of Charon's_ shipping manifest.

"Why did we get stuck with catalogue duty?" Tucker complained on the open comm, setting aside a heavy carton as they worked their way through the sealed crates.

_Designation CI-4918. Contents: S-1 canister shells, 1000 count._

\- "Punishment," - Carolina replied succinctly. Epsilon got an accusing stab of emotion in his direction from Tucker, annoyance overlayed by remembered fear and lingering relief, and the guilt it elicited soured his mood even further.

"Isn't it about time to let that go, C?"

He could _hear_ her grinding her teeth together. 

\- "It was _two days_ ago and you _almost disassembled yourself." -_

Tucker used his foot to shove aside one of the boxes with a rather unnecessary amount of force, his unspoken agreement resonating through Epsilon like a sparked wire. 

_Designation CI-9731. Contents: 10cL biofoam canisters, 300 count._

"But I didn't!" he pointed out. It was halfhearted at best; he knew he'd fucked up. Mostly by sending out those messages before he actually did anything, because _wow_ that was dramatic when everyone received them after the fight and he was still around. He didn't necessarily regret the thought processes behind what he'd planned to do, but getting collectively yelled at had sucked. Grif had sworn at him for like five minutes straight; Carolina gave him the angry-hurt cold shoulder. Caboose had _cried_. 

"Fucking prick," Tucker muttered. Epsilon winced; apparently he hadn't kept those thoughts quite as under the radar as he'd thought.

\- "Just finish the inventory," - Carolina ordered peevishly, and cut off the comm.

Epsilon hesitated as Tucker walked around a large crate almost twice as tall as he was, looking for the serial number. He projected himself out from Tucker's helmet after a couple more seconds.

"I did say I was sorry," he said, quiet and grudging. Guilty, but he'd never admit to that. Emotions were for suckers and Donut.

Tucker sighed, the sharp lines of his anger seeping out of Epsilon's code. 

"Yeah, we know, dude. You're still a fucking prick though."

Epsilon didn't dispute that. 

He finally spotted the tracking number on the front of the crate, up near the top, and threw it through the database. It pinged a couple of external networks that he followed absently back to their sources.

_Designation CI-5922 [PFL-R12]. Contents: Mark-VIII Cryogenic Suspension Chamber, 1 count. [In use. Status normal.]_

And all of Epsilon's processes stuttered to an abrupt halt.

"No fucking way," he breathed, avatar jumping over to the crate. Tucker's suit didn't have much in the way of scanning software, but it was advanced enough that he could detect the technology inside, the _life form_ inside. An avalanche of data from Project Freelancer tumbled out of a disused memory bank, the once-nonsensical information suddenly becoming clearer as he cross-referenced the intel from Charon's files. 

"Carolina, Wash, you need to get down here," he ordered over the comm. He waited just a second for their indicators in the ship to start moving before switching back to external speakers. "Tucker, get this open. Now."

The information he tried to convey to Tucker as explanation was jumbled and fragmented, but apparently he passed on enough to impart the significance of the find. Tucker started undoing the pressure seals without complaint, the locks hissing as they disengaged, and Epsilon barely waited until the door retracted before flitting over to the pod. 

Tucker followed curiously - and then immediately recoiled when he saw that the pod was _occupied_.

"Fucking hell, that sicko kept _people_ as trophies?"

"It _is_ ," Epsilon murmured, ignoring him. Any lingering doubts of the cryo chamber's indexed contents melted away when he saw the person inside, his code humming excitedly at the sight of the telltale scar slashed through one closed eye.

"York?"

Surprise jolted through Tucker's nerves. Epsilon refocused his attention to find Carolina standing behind them, her rifle clenched tight in her hands. 

Her helmet was off and her eyes were so very, very vulnerable.

"Epsilon, tell me that... Is that..."

"It's him, C," he reassured her softly. He had only skimmed the surface of the data he'd dredged up - classified retrieval, experimental medical testing, cryo storage for future research - but it was enough to confirm validity. 

The man in that pod was ex-Freelancer Agent New York. Improbably, _impossibly_ , he had survived. Epsilon only had a few hazy memories of York from the days during the Project, Alpha's fondness for the snarky infiltrator lingering in the back of his mind. But the sharper memories, the ones that were clear and tinged with sadness, had all come from Carolina.

Carolina, who had dropped her gun and taken a few shaky steps forward. Who reached out to touch the clear plastasteel with trembling fingers, staring at York with an intensity of hope that Epsilon hadn't thought she'd ever be able to muster again. She glanced over her shoulder and he felt Tucker's surprise at the raw expression on her face.

"He's alive? He's really... He's okay?"

"They fixed him up before they put him into cryo," he confirmed. "He'll probably have some freezer burn, and there might be some long-term side effects, but otherwise...yeah. He's alright."

Carolina turned back to the pod, pressing her palm to the glass.

"Wake him up. Please. I need to..."

"Yeah, sis," Epsilon said softly. "I got it."

He sent a brief alert to Tucker - _'I have to--' 'it's okay dude go on'_ \- before jumping over into the cryo pod's systems. It was almost painfully simple, and barely able to accommodate his presence; he toggled the resuscitation process and brought up York's vitals, monitoring the careful cessation of drugs as the ex-Freelancer was pulled out of his induced sleep. 

"Oh my god."

Wash had arrived.

Epsilon kept tapped into the pod's system as he hopped back over to Tucker, materializing in front of Wash's frozen form. Carolina didn't even twitch, staring into the pod as color slowly returned to York's skin. 

"It's him," Epsilon said quietly to Wash's wild-eyed look. "It really is."

"But I... I _saw_ his body - his armor..."

"They didn't trust you as much as they pretended," Epsilon said, tracing back all the notes from the experiments, the logs recorded from the retrieval of York's armor all the way up to his cryonic suspension. "They needed to know that you didn't feel anything when you destroyed the others' bodies. That you didn't care. But in the end, they weren't willing to let anything go to waste."

Wash staggered forward; Tucker reached out to lay a steadying hand on his shoulder. He finally seemed to tear his gaze away from the pod to look at Carolina, his eyes widening even further.

He understood.

Epsilon flickered as the pod updated its status. He moved his hologram over to Carolina's shoulder.

"He's waking up," he advised gently. 

She pulled away as the pod hummed and slid open, revealing York enclosed inside. He wore a simple black cryosuit and his hair was longer than Epsilon - than _Carolina_ , technically - remembered, but everything else was the same. The scar, the shape of his lips, the mole on the side of his neck. 

York inhaled a deep breath, and when he opened his eyes, those were the same, too.

"York," Carolina whispered.

York blinked slowly. He turned his head to the side, his gaze falling on Carolina. After a few more sleepy blinks, one side of his mouth curved up, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Am I in heaven?" he murmured, voice rough and low. "Cause you look like an angel."

After a brief moment of stunned silence, Carolina let out a short, choked laugh. Epsilon got an incredulous pulse of emotion from Tucker - _'are you fucking shitting me since when did pickup lines work on her'_ \- as Carolina leaned forward, reaching out to cup York's cheek in her palm. 

"Your pickup lines still suck," she said, voice wavering. 

York smiled softly.

"Guess you'll just have to teach me better ones, huh?"

An alert pinged from the processes Epsilon had running in the background. It drew his attention away from Carolina and York as he pulled it up, tracing the source back to Charon's inventory files.

_Designation CI-6721 [PFL-R49]. Contents: Mark-VIII Cryogenic Suspension--_

"Holy fucking shit," he blurted. 

Wash scrubbed the back of his hand across his face as he looked over at Epsilon and Tucker, his eyes still suspiciously bright.

"What is it?"

"There are more," Epsilon breathed. "Two more pods marked from PFL down in a different bay. And there are references to others, to groundside storage locations, a research facility... There are _more_."

He turned toward Wash, who suddenly looked impossibly young, uncertain hope etched onto his face.

"Wash. They're _alive_."

"So what are we waiting for?" Carolina asked. All three of them looked back over to find her carrying York, bridal style, a grin curving her mouth. York let out a pleased sound at the sight of Wash and offered him a small, insouciant wave, but otherwise seemed content to stay where he was.

Carolina's green eyes glittered, fierce and jubilant.

"Let's go get them."


End file.
